


all my dreams are falling down

by Lizzen



Series: the gravity of love [2]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Aliens Made Them Do It, Angst, Changing POV, F/F, Sex Pollen, Soul Bond, Surprise Guests - Freeform, Teamwork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-01 22:00:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11495598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizzen/pseuds/Lizzen
Summary: Sometimes an established soul bond doesn’t stick. Welcome to the Phantom Zone.Sequel toand stick it into someone else's heart





	1. pull you under

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to sideofzen for all her love and support. To petragem for believing in me and for a marvelous beta. And, of course, to th_esaurus for being my touchstone.
> 
> I have to break hearts first before mending them. Mea maxima culpa.

**MAXIMUM SECURITY PRISON NEAR METROPOLIS; CELL NO. 41940**  
_about one year later_  
*  
In the midst of scribbles, he writes in code:

S U P E R G I R L

 

 

 

 **GOTHAM; L CORP SATELLITE OFFICE**  
_six months later after that_  
*  
Lena pushes the doors open to her business suite and immediately begins unbuttoning her shirt. “This is going to have to be quick,” she says, not even looking up, not even looking at Kara standing with crossed arms at the balcony door. “I have a meeting in an hour.”

A brisk response: “I asked your assistant to cancel it.”

Eyebrows raised, she stops fussing with her shirt, looks over at Kara. “You did that, did you?”

Kara shrugs. “I need more than quick.”

Lena’s feelings are unbalanced; irritation, doubt, ache, desire, an irrepressible fondness. Breathing in slowly, she finishes with her shirt, opening it up, and tries not to hate this, tries again and again not to hate a prescribed date in which she, suddenly a ship without a rudder, has to have extreme desires met or be met with extreme madness.

They experimented one month, a year ago, withholding, waiting. And the shakes and the pain and the sheer insanity they felt was something she’ll never do willingly again.

And she knows her displeasure is being broadly broadcasted by the wrinkles in Kara’s forehead and the squaring of her jaw. Lena’s not one to forget that in this business, it takes two to tango, and that Kara is a believer. That this is _real_.

Time has withered away Lena’s belief, what with her hyper focus on work and with Kara’s constant absence saving the world again. What with the requirement to fuck regardless of feeling. Rhea’s curse makes defined cracks in the foundation of a real relationship, crumbling something Lena held dear, had hope in. In her darker spaces of her heart, she truly thinks of them as barely roommates now.

And yet: her hand reaches for Kara’s, pulls her close for a searing kiss, and in moments, something light blurs all the lines and boundaries and walls Lena’s has built.

The kiss goes on for longer than she intended, and it’s wonderful; both a comfort and a flame. Kara clings tight to her waist and all Lena can feel is waves and waves of Kara’s delight overwhelming a gaping wound of hurt. And the kiss feeds the desire inside her, begging to be brought to completion, again and again. Lena fumbles with Kara’s skirts, reaching desperately for her sex. When she makes purchase, Kara keens in her arms. She works Kara up, and avoids the consideration of just going autopilot today. Lena’s learned that it’s more satisfying if she means it.

And it’s much more satisfying if she’s a little rough.

Lena’s desk is consistently cleared off days 26 through 30 in case of an office tryst, so it’s easy to force Kara on top of the desk, with one hand pushing down on her chest and the other wildly fucking into Kara’s wet heat. She holds her there, _her_ , a superpowered being from another planet, and fucks her with very little mercy. Kara doesn’t gasp and shout like she used to; all Lena can hear is fast breathing and the sound of fingers against wet skin.

And on the occasion, Kara will say: “more.”

Deep into, into the act, Lena kind of forgets herself, and keeps going, pleased with every time the walls of Kara’s sex flutter against her fingers. She’s good at this, an expert maybe. In the early months, they fucked a lot outside of the prescribed time, but when the honeymoon period was over, everything shifted.

If she’s being honest with herself, Lena misses the early days, deeply. Feelings were new, feelings made sense. Now--

She lifts her hand from over Kara’s beating heart and Kara lets out a low moan. “Don’t stop.”

At this point, if it was just two beings having a tête-à-tête in an office, Lena would be a little tired but desire _unnatural_ is taking over. “Get on your hands and knees,” she says.

It’s a delicious position, where Lena can fuck in deeper while playing rough with Kara’s breasts. Adjust if needed, to whisper dark things in Kara’s ear. Not see Kara’s eyes. They’ve done this before with toys, mixing it up, but it’s always better with Lena’s fingers, delving deep and hard and fast.

There’s a point they always reach, where Kara tires and there are no more orgasms to wring out of her. And today, Lena resents it, wishes there were a few more moments of this feeling -- where it all seems to make sense, where desire reigns supreme.

She knows that the minute Kara touches her, she’s going to come, sharp and quick. And it’ll be over. And she’s enjoying herself so much now, now that she’s in it.

“Let me,” Kara says, gingerly sitting upright and reaching for her. “I’ll be careful.”

And instead of fumbling with Lena’s pants, she pushes in for another kiss, which turns into another, and soon Lena is just clinging to her. “I don’t want this--” she starts to say, and Kara cuts her off with a finger to her mouth.

Lena was going to say: “I don’t want this to end, not now. I don’t want to go back to hating this.”

And Kara squeezes at her bra, thumbing under the fabric to get at Lena’s nipple. She plays there, a sweet sort of thing, for a while. Then pressing a kiss to the swell of Lena’s breast, she lingers and with tongue and teeth works Lena up enough to be closer, closer to bliss. Kara takes her time, and Lena doesn’t mind.

But as expected, the moment Kara’s fingers make their way to Lena’s sex, sliding gently against her hard clit, Lena’s heart clenches and pleasure ripples throughout her body. A quick, almost satisfying sensation.

And where there was desire, there is silence. Where there was hope that this was real, there is silence.

Lena gets uneasily to her feet. “Well. Thank you,” she says. And is almost knocked back by Kara’s despair. She zips up her pants and buttons her shirt. “I’ll be back in National City next week. We should have breakfast.”

“I still love you,” Kara says, still on the floor looking undone.

“I know you do,” Lena replies. “Next week then.”

As she sweeps out of her office, unable to continue any further conversation, she can’t help but feel her own sadness. There’s a mirror near the elevator, and Lena stops. Fusses with her hair and shirt. Her eyes look dark and her lips are kiss-swollen. And the half frown catches her attention. _It shouldn’t be this way, it should never have been this way_ , she thinks. But her brain is clear now that the deadline has been met, and Lena has work to do.

 

 

 

 **CENTRAL CITY; WAREHOUSE DISTRICT**  
_a few days later_  
*  
Kara swings her legs back and forth from their hidden position sitting on the roof. “So, that’s what’s going on with me.”

And Barry breathes out the longest sigh ever to be sighed. “And how does it work right now, with you being in a different--”

“It’s fine,” she says too quickly. “I’m fine.” She can still feel her, a shimmering sort of sensation in Barry’s world compared with her own. The vibrations of her echoed life. Distant, but not enough to bring real pain. She had thought about asking Lena to come, meet Barry and his team, see a new world. But Lena’s inevitable “no” would have hurt too much.

Barry’s been quiet, so she turns, nudges his shoulder with her own. He gives her a hopeful smile and her heart almost breaks. “Is there a cure?” he asks.

She fidgets with her hands. “Winn is working on one, but he needs my blood. Which is near impossible to get.”

All too quickly he says: “You don’t want to be cured. You don’t want to lose her.”

“I’m losing her anyway.” Kara never meant for the words to sound like she’s aching something terrible inside, but some things are impossible to mask.

The thwip of an arrow interrupts them. “That’s our cue,” Barry says softly. “I’m so sorry.”

Kara straightens up, puts on a masked expression. “Shall we?”

 

 

 

 **METROPOLIS; WAYNE ENTERPRISES OFFICE**  
_a day later_  
*  
“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” Clark mutters into his phone as it rings incessantly. When it reaches Kara’s voicemail message again, he hangs up and leans back in his chair.

Staring out of the window with his arms behind his back, Bruce says: “We don’t need her.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he replies, short. “I’ll try Alex.”

Alex informs him that she’s in _another universe_ , which is news to Clark that this is a thing, this is a thing that Kara does. But she’s supposed to be back in an hour, can their operation wait that long.

“No,” Clark says. “But send her as soon as she gets back. Tell her-- tell her it’s Brainiac. We think.” He lets out a hopeless chuckle. “It’s not entirely clear.”

When he hangs up, Bruce turns and raises his eyebrow. “We gonna do this?”

Breathing in, Clark tries to remain calm. “We need more back up.”

“And I just called in a favor.”

 

 

 

 **METROPOLIS; OUTSIDE THE DAILY PLANET**  
_an hour and thirty eight minutes later_  
*  
Diana flinches as it happens, startled and ultimately helpless to stop it. Vortexes open and close and there’s nothing to be done. She’s killed things from other worlds before, but this is different.

The alien, the warrior that Bruce admires above all other men, howls in rage for his lost kin.

“Batman,” she calls into the comm. “Get him away from here, he’s not going to be any help now.”

 

 

 

 **NATIONAL CITY; L CORP HEADQUARTERS**  
_exactly in the same moment_  
*  
The sensation is so sharp and sudden that Lena shrieks out. And then it’s serenity, endless serenity as the connection she’s been saddled to breaks, shatters, and ends. There’s nothing but her own self in her body and heart and mind now; only Lena Luthor. Kara’s gone; an absence, a void.

Rolling her head back, she sighs out in pleasure. It’s over, it’s done. Winn found a cure, she thinks. And with a rush of emotion she thinks: _finally we can, we can know if this is real, if we can_ have _something real._

Absently putting on shoes and looking for her purse, she dials Kara. Gets a busy signal. Moves next to Winn.

“Schott,” she says, getting him on the first ring. “It’s amazing. What did you do?”

“Lena,” he says, with a quiet sort of seriousness that washes away all her glee. “Can you feel her at all?”

She stutters out a confused “no” and then is hit with a series of worst case scenarios.

“We’re in trouble.”

 

 

 

 **THE PHANTOM ZONE**  
_where time does not exist_  
*  
Kara lands in the dirt and the sharp volcanic rock, and winces from the pain. There are cuts lining her hands and her skin, and bruises growing on her knees and arms. Rolling over to her back, she looks up at the pale sun and its rays alight her face but do little else.

She remembers this place, the bleak solitude of it all. Her twenty something years stuck here as a near-shipwrecked child had moments of wakefulness and panic before the pod lulled her to sleep again. There’s a silence to the place, overwhelming and unkind. You can hear your heart beating in your chest, the roar of oxygen as you breathe, and the crush of stone under your weight. It’s enough to drive a person mad.

It’s a desolation in every direction, and she’s alone, completely and utterly.

And like a cauterized wound still sizzling, she cannot feel Lena at all. Not a glimpse or hint or the vaguest brush of emotion, feeling, anything. With her head against rock and dirt, she stares up at the grey sky and screams.

 

\---


	2. somebody save me

**NATIONAL CITY; LENA AND KARA’S CONDO**  
_many months earlier_  
*  
Sex is easy when it comes to off days, Lena thinks. Nothing pushing or pulling them in one way or another; simple pleasure on their terms. A lovely sort of way to dream away the time, holding each other close and feeling the echoes of real desire reverberate. Kara clings to her like a drowning woman, and Lena loves it. Loves feeling wanted.

Now: there are doubts growing like a canker in the back of her mind, things she ruminates on in the silence of the boardroom or the emptiness of her bed when Kara’s away. Feelings she wallows in for growing stretches of time. But it all seems silly now, a ghosting sensation to forget as she falls, and she falls, and she falls into fancy.

They lie together for hours, lazily making love with long lingering moments of just kissing. Kisses you don’t remember individually, but a feeling that sticks with you long after.

Kara’s sleepiness becomes apparent, in the slowing of her movements and the heaviness of her eyelids and the lessening of her grip. “I’m so happy,” she says as the afternoon sun gently hits half of her face through lace curtains, and Lena smiles.

“When you wake up,” Lena says softly, “Potstickers and champagne.” And she chuckles as Kara opens her eyes enough to show her eyes rolling back in anticipated pleasure. “When you wake up,” she echoes as Kara’s eyes close and her body stills.

 

 

 

**THE PHANTOM ZONE**  
_where time does not exist_  
*  
Her eyes blink open slowly and all Kara can see is pitch black, an all-consuming darkness. Staring into it, she wishes her mind would mirror it, become an empty void herself.

But no, Kara Zor-El wakes from a night terror into a living terror; something she must get used to if she’s going to keep her sanity in this place.

She found the cave after walking for miles, a small haven from the wind and protection from whatever residents of the Phantom Zone may linger in the area. But with only sand and stone for miles, there’s no hope of firelight until the sun rises on grey plains.

There’s a division in her thoughts: the need for exploration to find an escape in an impregnable space prison, the need to take a moment to just rest, and Lena, Lena, always Lena. The shape and the smell of her, the curve of her neck and the angle of her chin, the register of her voice, and touch of her hand. How painful it is to see the tether between them fraying.

It’s perhaps all a moot point now, she thinks and tries not to despair.

And then: “I call this Jubilee Cave,” a voice says in the dark. Male, perhaps old, definitely jovial. “It’s a peaceful respite.”

Kara leaps to her feet, and ignores how dizzy it makes her. “Who are you?”

A light shines suddenly, filling the room with a dull brightness and showing herself to not be alone. A man past the flower of his youth sits across from her, holding a rock of some sort that shines light. He’s not quite wizened, but she still is on edge. She knows what beings are doomed to this hellish place.

His eyes are drawn to the symbol on her chest and he smiles, not unlike how a grandfather might. The man nods his head at her, as if understanding something unsaid.

“Hello, Kara Zor-El, daughter of Alura, my greatest friend,” he says, and she tenses further. “My name is Zaltar.”

 

 

 

**NATIONAL CITY; LENA AND KARA’S CONDO**  
_the same day_  
*  
Lena lies in bed, spread eagle with her eyes gazing unfocused at the ceiling. And this is what she knows:

1\. The bond is severed; she can’t feel Kara anywhere, in any way. No glimpse, no echo, nothing.

2\. There is crystal clear footage from various angles of Superman raising some gun-shaped object at a flying green monster that Perry White is calling _The Brainiac_ , and in a split second, the monster has shoved Supergirl in the line of fire. The white light hits her, and she vanishes. Moments later, a vortex opens and Brainiac escapes into it before it closes.

3\. Winn isn’t calling her back.

4\. Inexplicably, Bruce isn’t either.

5\. There’s nothing she can do but wait

There’s a sluggishness in her bones mingled with discontent. It’s recognizable depression, and she attempts to nurse it with cups of tea and thin slices of apple.

She had been unkind to Kara the last time they saw each other, very unkind. And all she can taste in her mouth is regret.

 

 

 

**GOTHAM; THE BAT CAVE**  
_the same day_  
*  
“Tea,” Alfred says, laying down a silver tray with an antique china teapot and three elegant teacups. Cream and sugar, and honey and lemon for the discerning types.

Diana lifts her head, shares a look with him. “Ma’am,” he says and turns on his heels away from the scene. From the men who could use a bracing cuppa. The alien, Clark or Kal -- she’s not sure which he is, which he prefers -- is sitting with his head in his hands while Bruce hasn’t left his computer station in hours. She pours a cup, adds a little honey, and sits again. Leans back.

“The good news, gentlemen,” she says, “is Kara is not dead,”-- and Clark darkly interrupts: “ _We don’t know that_.” She shoots him a look before continuing: “And it wasn’t Brainiac.”

“No,” Clark says. “It wasn’t. It was Luthor. Somehow.”

Bruce hums briefly as he types. “Not a bad theory.”

“The woman?” Diana asks, still piecing together the world Bruce has brought her into.

“Her brother,” Bruce replies easily as he focuses in on some footage of the fight on his massive screens. “Lena’s harmless.”

“We don’t know that to be true,” Clark says quietly. “I’ve never been too sure of her loyalties.”

Bruce turns around in his chair, sharp and abrupt. “You learn the measure of a man in battle and in the boardroom. She’s ruthless, demanding. And if she wanted Kara dead, Kara would be dead.” He turns back to his computer. “Lex has the grudge, Lillian has the means.”

“Lena knows enough now to do _real_ damage, she knows--”

“Let me speak to her,” Diana interrupts, putting her teacup down. “I’ll know.”

Clark looks up. “How?” and Bruce shakes his head and says “no” at the same time.

She smiles, pulls out the lasso. “Hold out your hand, Clark.”

Bruce opens his mouth and then closes it. Watches carefully.

Without any hesitation, Clark holds his arm up, palm open, and she wraps the rope lightly around it. It glow golden. “What is your name?” she asks.

“Kal-El of Krypton,” and his eyes grow wide.

“Tell me about our friend here,” and she tilts her head towards Bruce, whose eyes also grow wide. “I’d like to know what you think of him.”

Clark fights it, stutters out: “H-he’s a good man. And his suit is a little t-tight around his--aahh.”

She smiles, and pulls the rope away. “I agree. Fully,” and she smiles further when Bruce huffs. “I’ll talk to her.”

Bruce holds up his hand. “She’s beyond reproach--” and Diana interrupts.

“Trust me,” she says, leaning in. He narrows his eyes, but backs down.

“Good,” she says, and: “Don’t let the tea get cold. For Alfred’s sake.”

 

 

 

**THE PHANTOM ZONE**  
_where time does not exist_  
*  
Zaltar settles closer to her, cross his arms and leans back against the cave walls. “And that is how I came here, a lifetime ago.”

“It was your choice?” Kara says slowly, still trying to understand. The Phantom Zone was a punishment for the worst of sorts, not for--

“My sins were great,” he replies. “And there’s something soothing in the quiet.”

Kara narrows her eyes as thousands of questions come to mind. She allows one to slip: “What about the others, the others here?”

And he smiles something sharkish. “There are thousands of us here. Perhaps millions. Trapped souls who waste away into ghostly shrouds of nothingness before they turn to sand. There’s a few in this cave right now.”

At her flinch, Zaltar chuckles. “You will not see them yet, not for some time. Your eyes are not yet accustomed to see things here.” And he leans in. “But never you mind about that. Ask me the more important question, the one trembling on your tongue. I’ve got an answer for it.”

Kara steadies herself. “Is there a way out?”

Zaltar leans close, oh so close, and his face is bright with glee. “For you, there is.”

 

 

 

**NATIONAL CITY; L CORP HEADQUARTERS**  
_the next day_  
*  
Diana smiles as prettily as she can as Luthor’s assistant flusters up. “You don’t have an appointment, you can’t go--”

And Diana pushes through the doors to the main office, and continues to smile as the Luthor girl nearly leaps out of her chair.

“I--” the girl starts and then gets a really good look of her face. “Ah,” she says with recognition in her eyes. Shoulders back and chin high, she walks close. “Lena Luthor.” She reaches out her hand.

“Diana.” They shake with an even grip.

“Impressive what you did in Metropolis,” Lena says, and gestures towards a chair. “Would you like a drink?”

“Thank you, I’m fine,” she says and settles in, considers next steps and what words to say. The girl is, of course, innocent; Diana knew that before. But she may be of use in such a way that the boys didn’t consider.

After all, Diana knows what it’s like to have a troubled brother.

“Is she dead?” Lena asks, strained.

“To our knowledge, she lives.” Diana watches her very carefully. “And we know exactly where she is.”

“Where is she?” and it’s said with such a quiet despair that Diana’s heart aches for her.

“I’m told it’s a desolate wasteland called the Phantom Zone, a prison of sorts in a space without time. Superman shot her accidentally with the Phantom Zone projector during battle.” And she watches how Lena’s chin raises with the hint of anger. “He thought he was shooting at a creature called Brainiac, a scourge of his people. But something was off about it, not right.”

Lena’s eyes narrow.

“We are certain, Lena, that it was not Brainiac, but some kind of highly enhanced cyborg who succeeded in his particular mission.” Diana pauses. “We are almost certain about who sent it. And if we were certain, we could--”

“You think--” and Lena stops. Doesn’t complete the sentence.

The angular jaw tightens, and Diana’s work is done.

 

 

 

**MAXIMUM SECURITY PRISON NEAR METROPOLIS; CELL NO. 41940**  
_several days later_  
*  
Lena straightens her suit jacket and raises her chin high before taking the first step down the hallway. It’s a long stretch to walk, but she can see the metal chair at the end of it. Facing a glassed-in cell.

Her heart’s in her mouth. She’s not seen him in years, not since he was free. Not since he grabbed her by the shoulder and said, “I’m doing this for you,” before leaving her alone and scared about what he was doing, what he was going to do.

She loved him once.

There’s flats on her feet, because she didn’t want to draw attention with the sharp sound of heels against concrete floors. But he’s there, standing with his hands at his sides, as she arrives in full view of his cell.

Bald and still handsome, Lex Luthor stands and opens up his palms in submissive, welcoming sort of gesture. “Sister,” he says simply. “You’re a vision.”

She avoids his eyes at first, staring at the rather opulent cell, filled with books and sketches. The bed has a mattress and a pillow, and the toilet has a seat. Such niceties for the madman who nearly destroyed Metropolis.

And he chuckles. “I don’t get many guests. You must have pulled many a string. I’m honored.”

Steeling herself, her gaze drifts to his, looks at him eye to eye. Finds her courage. “You did this.”

Lex blinks before: “She’s his blood.” It’s an answer that resonates, it’s words that spiral around many truths. And he opens his mouth again: “Does he suffer?”

“ _I’m suffering_ ,” Lena says sharply. “And the separation could have _killed_ me.”

His eyes narrow, telling her that he knows nothing about the bond, about the prescribed 28 days, Her relief competes with her rage. “You just thought--”

He says the words excruciatingly slow: “You and her were close.” And then his hand raises up and he casually wags his index finger.

“We were more than close,” she says, not realizing her hands are fisting. “She was my world.” And the words, spat out loud to taunt him, rebound back at her. She flinches, horrified at what a cruel thing she was to Kara in the past few months. Horrified at a certain truth spilling out of her like that.

Lex claps his hands together; once, twice. “And now she’s gone. You’ll heal.” He smiles, and it’s all teeth. “It’s not like she can get back in a flash.”

Lena’s eyes unfocus, words to trigger memory to trigger hope to trigger-- “No, she can’t,” she says almost dazed. “I have to go.”

“Stop,” he says, approaching the glass and his eyes are wild. “Don’t go, I’m sorry. Believe me, I am sorry. Please don’t--”

She raises her hand, presses it against the glass. “You just saved her.” And as she runs down the hallway, it echoes with him shouting her name.

 

 

 

**THE PHANTOM ZONE**  
_where time does not exist_  
*  
From a distance, Kara stares evenly at the many hooded creatures between her and a rock carved gateway into the nothingness of space. A few walk between the gates and disappear into the nothingness. Zaltar whispers in her ear: “A sort of suicide here. Speed up the process towards death.”

She swallows. The stakes are considerable, especially not being sure if Zaltar’s story is right.

The gateway, he had said, was built by Jor-El himself as a sort of safeguard in case his projector was turned on him and his bloodline. As a blood relative, as a member of the House of El, her blood smeared across the rock will give her safe passage. Return her to the one she loves.

It’s a reasonable theory; either a legend amongst the inhabitants or a truth told to him by her mother.

“I’m wearing the family coat of arms on my chest, they’re likely to attack me,” she mutters, and Zaltar nods. Quickly removes his cloak and wraps it around her.

“They’re likely to attack anyway,” he says, with a mischievous sort of smile. A man can become quite mad out here in the black, she thinks, and pities him.

With careful steps, they get closer and closer, until something notices them. “Zaltar, what delicious treat have you brought us this time?”

“My friend here committed the genocide of a dying race as they tried to rebuild a new homeworld,” he says proudly. Kara works hard to turn her immediate grimace into a cruel smile. “And our darling boy Kal-El was having none of that, as you see.”

Two of them nod, look away. But five others grow close.

“You speak truth, old man, and yet I can smell something different, I can smell--”

“She smells like innocence,” a creature says quietly, reaches up to touch Kara’s hair. And before she can stop him, he sniffs her dirty curls. “I can smell _him_ on her.” The name is said softly like a dark prayer. “ _Jor-El_.”

“Run, girl,” Zaltar says under his breath but it’s too late.

Rough hands grab her, and knives nearly pierce the skin along her neck and her side, something hard pushing at her back. A club perhaps.

She’s beyond panic, there’s not much place for it now, not here. _I won’t survive this_ , she thinks steadily, and with control, she struggles loose from their grip. Lifts her fists and adjusts her stance.

Kara may not have strength or powers in this place, but she knows how to pull a punch, how to use her size to her advantage, and how to aim a knife.

And yet, after the sound and the fury of it all, there are creatures looming over her, a cackle in their throat and smile on their lips, as she lays soaked in her own blood on the ground, struggling for breath. Struggling to stay alive.

And in her mind’s eye, all she can see is Lena’s face in the morning sunlight.

 

 

 

 

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many notes, this chapter, hi. 
> 
> #1: My favorite comment from the last chapter was “You are not a nice person:(” and I hope I lived up to it again. 
> 
> #2: So much love to all my sweet supercorps out there, hope you’re hanging in there okay. ‘Twas a rough SDCC2017 but, fuck it, we can enjoy media however the fuck we want. ::party emojis:: 
> 
> #3: How could I write this chapter without the Justice League trailer wailing in the background? I’ve not seen BvS (why? why would you???) but elements have been stolen, hobvs. Speaking of stolen elements, SUPERGIRL 1984 FOREVER. (I actually don’t recommend it unless you’re a tiny girlchild in the 80s/early 90s, and then yes. Yes, watch it so you can write fic referencing it in the late 2010s.) And the discerning types will have noticed the straight up lift from Smallville. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Bless.
> 
> #4: Love as always to petragem (such a helpful beta), th_esaurus (such an inspiration), and sideofzen (such a sweetheart). <333


	3. i’ve been waiting for you

**CENTRAL CITY; S.T.A.R. LABS**  
_now_  
*  
With his hands behind his back, Barry considers his surprise guests.

1\. Kara’s cousin. Alien. Shockingly handsome. Flinched when Barry casually said that he was the fastest man alive. Introduced himself as Superman. More of a spokesperson than useful.

2\. Kara’s girlfriend. Human. Angular jaw. Flinched when Barry gave her a look up and down and an almost sneer. Introduced herself as Lena Luthor. Here for the science.

3\. Kara’s coworker. Human. A little bit in love with Superman. Winn Schott. Here for the science.

4\. Superman’s bodyguard(?). Human(?). Taciturn. Didn’t introduce himself. Dressed like a bat.

Barry half listens as Cisco rapidly chatters with Lena and Winn about adjusting the earth-hopper tech with the Phantom Zone Projector, with, of course, help from Cisco’s powers to bend the fabric of spacetime. If calculations are reworked, they can open a vortex into the Phantom Zone and allow people to go in and, more importantly, come out. Lena is surprisingly brilliant, spewing out technobabble and scribbling equations on the whiteboard, and he watches Cisco’s eyes go soft with a certain fondness. And Barry forgives her a little.

He also watches as the bodyguard continues to whisper in Superman’s ear, while identifying all of the exits and security cameras. There’s something about him that reminds him of Oliver, in a scary sort of way.

Edging towards them, he attempts a smile and conversation: “I’m sure Kara is going to be okay. She’s one tough cookie.”

Superman winces. “She doesn’t have her powers there.” He breathes in and out before: “It’s all my fault.”

He hesitates before doing it, but then reaches up to touch Superman’s shoulder, grips tight. “We’re going to get her back. Even if we have to break all the rules to do it.” And when Superman gives him a look, Barry lets him go and shrugs. “We do that kind of thing here, and stomach the consequences. I mean,” and he pauses. “I once got back my dead parents, for a time.”

The bodyguard coughs roughly, _very_ roughly, and both of them look over but --

Cisco shouts: “pack up, we’re going to their earth to experiment.” And he shouts: “Lena, keep working on those equations.” Lena’s now working on her iPad, typing away furiously with Winn looking over her shoulder. And he shouts: “time’s wasting, gentlemen!”

“I have a space,” the bat guy says. “I’ll put in the coordinates.”

And in moments, the vortex opens wide enough for them to—

 

 

 

 **GOTHAM; THE BAT CAVE**  
_not even seconds later_  
*  
—walk through and Lena barely looks up as she does, so focused on her task. She barely hears the introductions with Diana, and Cisco whispering to Barry: “she some kind of wonderful!”

Checking GPS, she does however notice her location is beneath Wayne Mansion. There’s a certain panic she breathes though looking over at the Batman, staring at the now-familiar eyes and jaw behind the mask. He notices her stare and she’s never thought the Batman, that _Bruce Wayne_ could look sheepish but here she is.

Fool me twice, she thinks. And that’s a _conversation_ she’s going to have to have soon.

But first, her iPad beeps. “I have something.”

 

 

 

 **THE PHANTOM ZONE**  
_where time does not exist_  
*  
Diana looks to her right where the barren wilds seems to go on for miles, and to her left, where a vortex is open with Lena and the others looking tense on the other side. Barry and Bruce stand in front of her, eyes on the horizon.

“If the vortex was bigger, I could get my car--” Bruce starts before Barry zooms into action, running like lightning in all directions, stopping to survey and continuing on. He returns, not even winded as he says: “There’s a rock formation nearby and the natives are restless. It’s that way,” and he points. “I’ll check it out.” And he’s gone in a blur of red and gold.

“Nice kid,” Bruce says. “Useful.”

And Diana chuckles. “Quite a team we have here,” she says. “I could get used to this, but you,” and she nudges him. “You prefer working alone?”

His jaw tightens, and quietly, quietly: “I could get used to this too.”

She opens her mouth but is interrupted--

It’s Barry, pale faced. “It’s trouble. I need--,” and he looks between them once, twice, and reaches for Diana.

What happens next is _otherworldly_ ; gripped by a speedster and raced through a distance in impossible time. She can’t even breathe. The red and gold fill her vision and there’s a roar in her ears. Her body flying through so much space. And she’s never loved a sensation so much.

When he stops, when her feet touch the ground, she immediately pulls back into a fighting stance. A crowd of creatures of all shapes and sizes surround a bleeding girl with rocks and knives raised in their hands.

Diana’s not one to waste time, not when there’s work to do. She barrels into the crowd, and no one is a match for her. Barry keeps up, zapping many of them away instead of knocking them cold, as they get closer and closer to Kara. There’s a dead old man at her feet, not by her hand but the others, and she wonders who in this place would have laid himself down to protect the girl. She hears something rumbling in her ears, but ignores it as she’s finally within reach. Carefully, she kneels down to touch Kara’s hand and receives a very weak grip back.

“Lena sent us,” Diana says and Kara’s bloodshot eyes open wide and her grip tightens.

They’re circled and circled by red and gold as Barry peels away every straggler, and Kara looks up at the lights and colors and her eyes go soft. “Barry,” she whispers.

“Bring her to me,” she hears and is grateful to recognize the gruff male voice. When she turns, she sees what was rumbling -- a very intricately built motorcycle of sorts. Black, of course, and bearing his symbol. Bruce reaches out his arms and something very quiet thuds in her heart.

 

 

 

 **GOTHAM; THE BAT CAVE**  
_soon after_  
*  
Lena sees the batcycle grow closer, followed by a red blur, and she moves out of the way, seeing their momentum increasing as they approach the portal. This is it, she thinks. There’s a breath stuck in her lungs, locked up in there as she watches and hopes.

A sensation surprises her, the touch of a hand grasping at hers; a fierce kind of grip and familiar in its strength. She looks up to see Clark’s face, pale and tense, so she squeezes his hand back.

The cycle reaches them first, and Bruce doesn’t slow down, hits the gas and blasts through the wide open vortex. He rides a little past them before a full, screeching stop. Barry carrying Diana arrive next and Cisco relaxes, lets go of the jerryrigged machine and the vortex closes.

Lena, of course, only has her eyes on the white-as-a-sheet, bloodsoaked Kara Zor-El in Bruce’s arms. How can she not? The flooding sensation of everything _Kara_ hits her like a tidal wave; and it’s agony and it’s pain and it’s confusion and it’s wonder. She staggers and tears fill her eyes from the sheer weight of it, overwhelming her completely.

“She’s dying,” Bruce says. “What do I do?” he asks Clark, looking desperate.

“Sunlight,” she says quickly, and Clark nods.

She can see the wheels turning as Bruce tilts his head to the side. “Elevator,” he says, and “Alfred, the dining room windows.”

There’s a race to the elevator; Clark first, Barry second, Bruce carrying Kara third, and not a hair behind him, Lena Luthor. Clark reaches out his hand and pulls her in as the doors close.

She pushes in towards Kara, holding her face gently and words keep tumbling out of her mouth: “you’re going to be okay, i’ve got you, we’ve got you, god, you can’t die, _i love you_.”

The elevator doors open and Bruce races across the floor towards sunlight. Alfred has drawn the curtains and Lena watches as Kara’s laid gently on the dining room table in full view of the yellow sun.

Without thinking, Lena gets up on the table with her, holding her hand and caressing her dirty curls. “Come back to me,” she says, over and over again.

What she doesn’t see: three men turning their heads to look away, give them a moment.

In time, Kara’s ragged breathing slows and a hit of color reaches her cheeks. But there's still blood seeping out of her suit. “Clark,” Lena says and he’s there, next to them.

“It’s not enough, she’s too wounded. I need to get her closer,” he says, and looks to Lena for permission. She pulls away.

In a half second, Clark has pulled Kara into his arms and has flown out of the house, into the sky.

Lena gets her bearings, looks across the dining table at Bruce. She’s grateful his suit is black, otherwise all she’d see is Kara’s blood on him. So, she gives him a half smile. “Hey, partner,” and he flinches before offering back his own half smile. “Any chance I could get a drink?”

 

 

 

 **GOTHAM; THE SKY ABOVE WAYNE MANSION**  
_moments after_  
*  
Golden light alights her face, warms her skin, and radiates through her body; a healing sensation that closes her wounds and fixes her bones and smoothes out her bruises and lends strength to her muscles. She’s crushed close to Kal, who smiles at her when her eyes focus on his face. “You had us scared,” he says and then his face falls. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry for sending you there.”

And she closes her eyes, leans her face against his. Below, she can feel Lena; worry fades and overwhelming relief cascades into her.

And Kara feels alive again.

 

 

 

 **GOTHAM; THE BAT CAVE**  
_very soon after that_  
*  
This is the greatest day of Winn’s life. Like, some kind of league of heroes needed him today and he’s literally in the _Bat Cave_ right now, working on _vortexes_ to other _worlds_. Oh, and they totally saved Kara, and he totally needs to be calling Alex ASAP to keep her in the loop and--

He notices blood on the floor and it hits him right in the gut.

Kara’s blood. Kara’s _impossible to get_ blood.

And he asks. “Computer, is there a centrifuge in here?”

 

 

 

 **GOTHAM; WAYNE MANSION**  
_moments later_  
*  
Standing in the entryway, Lena stares up at the sky where two figures are holding each other tight, staring up at the sun. Kara is overwhelmed, she can feel it; the delight, the relief of it all. Something happy lightens Lena’s heart, as much as a certain jealousy lingers in the periphery. And impatience begins to thrum in her veins, an ache to just hold her herself

Alfred appears at her elbow with an elegant bag in his hands. “These clothes should fit her,” he says. “There’s a guest room upstairs on the left. I assume a shower is in order.”

And his mouth twinges just a little. “I’ve also added a set of clothes for you as well, should you need them.”

Lena’s thank you is out of her mouth before she can blush.

She feels Clark’s descent, feels the warmth of Kara becoming nearer, feels the anticipation building inside Kara’s heart. And she awkwardly straightens her shirt, combs her fingers through her hair. Opens her mouth to say Kara’s name.

What comes out when she sees her face, shining bright, is this: “I’m so sorry.” And suddenly there’s an ocean of tears pouring out of her, ugly and raw.

Lena barely sees Kara disengage from Clark, touch his face briefly in thanks, and then limp over to her. And there are waves and waves of fondness that batter her before Kara can pull her into her arms. “Oh my love,” Kara says and they fall together to their knees, holding each other at last.

“You’ve been busy making new friends.” And Kara leans her head against Lena’s. “Thank you.”

“I thought I lost you,” Lena says. “And I couldn’t bear it.” She pulls away so she can grip Kara’s face, hold it firmly in her hands. “I love you, Kara. I truly do.”

Tears begin to roll down Kara’s face. It’s wet, it’s messy, and it’s perfect: their lips crash against each other, and the kiss seems to go on forever.

 

 

 

 **GOTHAM; WAYNE MANSION GUEST BATHROOM**  
_and after that_  
*  
Kara stands still and lets Lena peel off her bloody and tattered suit, watches her throw it in a heap on the cold marble floor. Watches Lena inspect her dirt-stained but healed body. Feels the almost clinical touch of fingers against skin; the back of her knee, the curve of her shoulder, the crease of her neck. There’s a shadow of a kiss before Lena moves to turn the shower on to a reasonable heat.

There’s a comforting silence between them; a calm after the storm. And Kara’s holding off the flood of thoughts and feelings and questions and concerns; and oh, she has so many. But, she’s finding a quiet peace, for now.

Softly, Kara tugs on Lena’s wrist once, twice. The ask is in her eyes, and in her heart. After a searching look, Lena nods and begins to take off her clothes.

Together in water and steam, they stand close, without words. Gentle touches, and just _being_ in each other’s orbit. Feeling a respite in the silence after so much grief.

There will be time for passion later, she thinks, and falls into the resonating depths of their unified joy.

 

 

 

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for reading! I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. 
> 
> I thought three chapters would do it, but no. Gotta stretch to four. Justice League Parties! Talking about feelings! More Hannibal references! A cure??? How are those curtains doing? And of course my notes and my beta also say ‘and then they banged’ so there's that too. ;) Thanks for sticking with me! xoxo


	4. just stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crushing writer’s block interrupted best laid plans for many, many moons; but here! we!! go!!!

**MAXIMUM SECURITY PRISON NEAR METROPOLIS; CELL NO. 41940**  
_a week later_  
*  
She sits in a metal chair, facing him. Her legs are crossed and her hands are on her lap. Scars gone, other than the ones she carries, and her skin’s color is back to normal. She’d be lying if she said her heart rate wasn’t a little elevated, despite the glass between them. Kara has more than her share of courage, but what is courage without fear?

He’s on the floor, drawing a perfect sketch of the Duomo in Florence, not paying her a lick of attention. But she knows he might, he just might be listening.

“It was a clever plan, really,” she says. “And, within your understanding of the players you knew were on the board, infallible.” There’s a sniff. “She would have mourned, and she would have carried on. And the more you dismantled her, the more she’d become yours. A very clever plan.” 

The pencil scratching on paper slows down, only slightly. 

“But it failed. You failed,” she says. One hand becomes a fist, the tight pressure of her fingernails against her palm. “She’s important to you, I know that. I admire that. But never, never underestimate her.” 

There’s a long moment before Lex swivels, stares up at her with the eyes of a man who is not entirely mad. 

“And you will take care of her for me. Or next time, I will kill you.”

Kara’s lips curl into a smile.

 

 

 

**GOTHAM; WAYNE MANSION, THE GRAND HALL**  
_five years later_  
*  
Lena leans into the microphone and opens her arms wide. “--and that wraps up the auction, thank you for your kind contributions,” she continues. “Now,” and she finds a certain pair of eyes at the center table, “please enjoy the dance floor.”

The band immediately strikes up with a jaunty tune and those in tuxes and those in silk and sequined dresses make their way to the bar, to speak with friends, to the floor. 

Bruce stops her on the stage, raises his hand for hers to shake. She laughs, as she always does, and pulls him into an awkward hug. “Partner,” she says, looking up at his face. His mask always cracks around her, and she can see his true self through his eyes. “We did good tonight.” 

“ _You_ did good, I just waived the rent for the venue,” he says. And then blushes when she kisses his cheek. “Go dance with your wife,” he grumps. 

“Go dance with yours,” she says, just see him sputter out:

“ _She’s not my_ \--” and as he continues in this fashion, she grins and walks away. Walks with a purpose. 

At the metal stairs on the side of the stage, Kara stands, radiant in a shimmery gold dress. Her eyes seem to sparkle, staring up at her and there’s only the slightest coloring of pink in her cheeks. There’s something breathtaking in how beautiful Kara is, and something just as lovely in knowing how brave, how strong she really is. In all the corners of her heart, Lena loves her; that overwhelming kind of love that nearly blinds you and makes your knees weak. 

As Lena gets closer, Kara reaches out her hand. “May I have this dance?” And she can’t help but glance at the stunning diamond on Kara’s ring finger, and her thumb runs along her own ring band. 

“Always,” she says. 

 

 

 

**GOTHAM; WAYNE MANSION, A GUEST BEDROOM**  
_several hours later_  
*  
Kara’s not kind to Lena’s dress, ripping it off her skin and getting her mouth on Lena’s nipple as fast as possible. There’s a gasp, a sigh, and urging words to inspire Kara further. The negotiation of desire and prudence as they make their way to bare skin against bare skin; priceless jewelry strewn on the floor along with pools of silks and high heels. 

It’s a dance they know, it’s a dance they’ve carried on for years. Doesn’t mean that it’s stale, doesn’t mean they don’t treasure every moment; especially the silly ones.

There’s kisses everywhere Kara can reach, and Lena gets the giggles. It’s sweet to see her like this, Kara thinks. A dragon in the boardroom, a woman who can command a room full of the who’s who of whatever city she’s in, a critical ally to a league of vigilantes and aliens and superhumans. 

All that washed away to reveal: someone soft, someone dear, someone kind. Someone so, so, so very beautiful. 

They’re no novices to each other’s bodies, to knowing what the other likes and dislikes. How could they not, after everything they’ve been through? Kara knows how a touch here, a touch there, her mouth against skin and the expert slide of her fingers, and Lena shatters into a blissful completion. But, oh, how she is still learning. 

Careful, carefully, she positions Lena to lie with her stomach against sheets, and she makes short work of Lena’s knots in her shoulder and neck. There’s nothing but unintelligible noises out of Lena now, leaning into the feeling, and Kara cherishes each one with her hands expertly kneading muscle. 

Then: “I love this, but I thought we were going to--”

And Kara slides a hand down to push Lena’s legs apart a little. With one firm movement, two fingers slide into Lena’s sex and--

“Oh,” Lena says intelligently and goes limp.

Adjusting slightly, Kara keeps on hand at Lena’s neck, kneading slowly, and another much further down, fucking in leisurely. “You worked hard today,” Kara says.

“Luthors eat charity galas for breakfast,” Lena says unsteadily, a gasp between every three words. “But I want your mouth,” Lena says plaintively, and Kara shakes her head, fucks in harder now. And there’s only a whimper out of Lena’s lips. Kara knows the rhythm Lena likes, so she takes it somewhere new, remixes it a little, you could say. 

It’s not long before the walls of her sex crash against Kara’s fingers and a keening sound meets the air. And then, then Kara lifts her hands, raises them up as if surrendering and Lena rolls to her side. 

“Not fair.”

“Make it fair.”

And that’s when Lena’s eyes go so very, very dark and Kara knows she’s in for something. A glow and a panic rise up in her. Her lover, her wife can be, after all, relentless. 

Soon: is it many minutes or many hours later? Kara doesn’t know. This is what that _something_ was: Lena’s tongue against her clit, Lena’s fingers inside her sex, a tenacious, neverending act until Kara’s dry, till there’s nothing left of her but lungs unable to allow for full breaths, a heart unable to keep its pulse down, and limbs unable to move. 

Kara’s a shadow of herself; tears are in her eyes and god, she hopes these walls are soundproof or that the two occupants of Wayne Mansion are far, far away from this wing. She has been loud, and necessarily so. 

“Have I mentioned,” and her attempt with words is foolish, her diction is a joke now. “That I love you.” (Imagine, dear reader, saying that with marbles in your mouth, and that’s what Lena hears.)

And that’s when Lena kisses her. 

They’ve shared many kisses over the years. The press of her lips, her mouth, her teeth, her tongue; the taste of her when aroused and the sighs she makes. Kara’s memorized each one and yet will never have enough. She remembers the fierce ones, the sad ones, the agonizing ones, and a long litany of simple ones. They’re all moments to love. All signposts that Kara loves this woman more than anything in this universe.

And it’s the kind of kiss now, with both parties exhausted, that gets sloppy and unfocused, but still meaningful, still worth the effort. And if Kara falls asleep with Lena’s lips against hers, who could blame her?

See, it’s been years since Rhea’s dress and vile intent led to such a cause, such an effect. It’s been years since they were bonded, body and soul. It’s been years since Winn used Kara’s spilled blood to create a cure that they both willingly took, risking much and gaining even more. It's been years since they directly _felt_ each other's emotional state, their agony and their joy (and dear reader, how often they miss it). And it’s been recent that rings encircle fingers and even more recent that a discussion launched about considering, just considering a baby. 

So, let them sleep, sleep warm and safe in each other’s arms. 

For who knows what tomorrow will bring?

 

 

 

**UNCHARTED SPACE**  
_somewhere around the same time, give or take a few days_  
*  
He views all the footage carefully and makes records of each piece on the chess board. There’s his nemesis, of course, the valiant Superman. His friends continue to grow in number, and some from other lands. Some from other Earths. With a twelfth-level intellect, he’s no fool about who they are and what motivates them to do what they do. 

There’s a queen amongst them; resilient. She’s been through fire and only come out more powerful, more kind. A magnificent specimen. 

He taps on the screen, and there’s a picture of her with the Luthor girl. Tilting his head, he notes the body language, the expressions, and the placement of their hands. _Lovely_ , he thinks. And wonders how both will react to the oncoming tidings of his coming. The first volleys of war, a taste of devastation. 

And this is what Brainiac knows: when it all becomes simple, when it is him versus this _justice league_ , it will be these two women who will get close enough to beat him. 

That’s what his calculations prove anyway. 

But only time will tell. 

 

 

 

#

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My love, my endless love to each of you for reading and especially commenting and especially especially my serial commenters - thank you so so so much. You are, each of you, a treasure. May we meet again.


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